about a mile from the beach. All being
prepared, one morning the boat left the shore as
usual, with a crew consisting of twelve
prisoners, a coxswain, and three soldiers with
pistols loaded. About half way to the ship, the
whole of the prisoners, upon some signal from
their ringleader, rose simultaneously, and
flung themselves upon the coxswain and
guard before they had time to fire. The
coxswain was instantly secured and bound;
but the soldiers were either thrown into the
sea, or in their fright leaped overboard. The
head of the gang, Dick Pearson, a daring
fellow who had been a seaman and who aided
the escape of the man at Symon's Bay, seized
the helm and directed the boat towards the
headland, called Windmill Point, to take in
their supplies and some of their confederates.
These latter, however, had been detained by
some accidental circumstances, and the boat
was kept lying off until it attracted the attention
of some parties on the shore near this
point, as well as of the captain of the ship.
The military were immediately summoned to
the spot. Signs were made to them to ship
their oars in token of surrender, but Dick
Pearson was not the man to yield, or to allow
the others to give way to their fears. They
were within half musket-shot from the shore,
but he, sitting still at the helm coolly steering
the boat, ordered them, in a voice that could
be heard from the shore, to pull for their
lives. The soldiers levelled, the word was
given to fire, and immediately a line of
musketry flashed and cracked along the beach.
When the smoke cleared away, however,
the soldiers being armed with the good old
British musket, the men were still seen
rowing in the boat, their daring leader sitting
still at the helm apparently untouched;
and, although several vollies were discharged
before they were completely out of gunshot
range, not one of the party was struck. The
mutineers, although they had not been able
to secure their provisions, put out to sea with
all speed. It was well known among the
convicts that such attempts have almost
invariably failed; and in all cases have been
attended with privations, in comparison with
which, what they endured on the island were
insignificant. But the passion for liberty is
no mere flourish of poets and orators.
Something more than a consideration of the
comparative material enjoyments of the one and
the other state, is at the bottom of that
longing to be free, which will sometimes
induce even those to whom every generous
sentiment would seem to be unknown, to
incur risks disproportioned to the utmost
increase of personal comfort which they can
expect to gain. The position of many on the
Island, in comparison with their previous life,
could not have been extremely irksome; but
the sense of restraint is continually with
them, becoming, at last, almost insupportable.
It is, indeed, no problem to me, that these
men, in spite of the preparations for retaking
them, which they could see on shore and
aboard the vessel and which made their
escape hopeless, continued to strain every
muscle for their miserable chance of getting
out on the wide ocean, without sail, compass,
or provisions. The captain, observing their
motions and having the wind in his favour,
effectually hemmed them in, and they were
compelled to surrender. Knowing the general
character of the men, and the feeling which
animates them, I do not doubt that if they
had had any arms they would even then have
made a desperate resistance; and of this the
records of attempts to escape from the Island
afford abundant instances. A lengthened
investigation subsequently took place. The
soldiers swore that they were seized upon
and violently flung overboard; the prisoners,
on the other hand, protested that they leaped
into the sea in their fright, or accidentally
fell over in the struggle.

In favour of the latter view there was a
strong circumstance, and which showed so
much humanity as to create great doubt
whether they were fairly chargeable with
the cruelty of purchasing their own liberty,
with the sacrifice of the lives of the guard.
The men, seeing the soldiers struggling in the
water, threw to them one of the oars, to which
they clung until they were picked up by a
boat from the shore. It was of course a very
important question, whether the mutineers
had been merely guilty of an attempt to
escape, or whether to that was added the
crime of an attempt of murder. The men
were afterwards tried by a jury of five military
officers; when the guard, uncatechised, echoed
of course the statements in their depositions;
and the accused were all convicted and
condemned to death. This sentence would, I feel
sure, have been carried into effect, but for the
interposition of the chaplain. As it was, their
original sentences were extended to transportation
for life.

It was during my detention in the Island that
the famous massacre, headed by Westwood,
alias Jacky Jacky, already described in a
previous number of Household Words, took place.
One of the principal causes which led to that
fearful outbreak was the stoppage of the daily
allowance of two pounds of potatoes, which,
from the saltness of the beef, were in that hot
climate almost absolutely necessary. Upon
the failure of the potato crop, an equivalent
for these two pounds of sweet potatoes was
sought, and it was at length determined by the
authorities that two ounces of raw salt pork,
being exactly similar in money value, should
be given as a substitute. The official report
says: "This has created much dissatisfaction
among the men generally, from the very small
quantity, which could, with due regard to the
public purse, be apportioned: and so difficult
has it been to make the men comprehend the
equity of such an equivalent, that a large
number for a long time refused to receive it,
in the hope that some other substitute would